Siblings of Scarlet
by Alewar
Summary: Gaara was stolen away from the Elemental Nations by one of the first experimental Anima portals. This lead to him being dropped by the portal into a strange new world. When he awakens for the first time in this new world, Gaara finds himself a prisoner in the Tower of Heaven. Naruto x Fairy Tail
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own neither Naruto nor Fairy Tail. Naruto is written by Masashi Kishimoto. Fairy Tail is written by Hiro Mashima.**

Chapter 1

. . .

Gaara's vision grew darker as the war raged on around him. It was then, as he took in the fight of his first, and best, friend that the Godaime Kazekage knew he was going to die. There was nothing more he could do. With his chakra spent, he looked up towards Naruto, and in extention the ten tailed beast. As he breathed his last, he sent up prayers for his people... Their people. And he knew no more.

. . .

"Hey!" The shout of a guard pierced through the dark halls of the Tower of Heaven. "Looks like we've got another escape attempt!" A foul tone of glee laced his words.

"No man, he's not one of ours." Answered his partner, "This ones a dead man, he was left to drift until the sea claimed him."

"Well check and see if he's still breathing. I'm not touching no cursed man!" The first guard ordered, looking as if he was about to make a run for it.

"Alright, right... Just hold your self together now." The second guard make quick work of the body. "Look here," He pointed, "his chest still has a rise and fall to it. But it looks like somebody tried to do 'im in. See here?" The guard indicated what should have been a fatal injury.

"He's lucky, I'll give 'im that. Bet he's strong too. Soon as he wakes up we should put 'im to work. The Tower's always needing more work, and we've just had some free labor delivered to us."

"We'll place 'im with the old man and the children. Perhaps something will get done over there for once."

. . .

A harsh bang on the cell door alerted the cell's occupants to the arrival of their guards. "Backs against the wall!" Came the command. An old man, known to the others as Rob, gathered the young children behind himself, shielding them at the back of the cell.

The guard checked them over, refusing to open the door until he was satisfied. "Bring in the prisoner." It took four guards to drag the unconscious red-head into their cell. The curious eyes of the children watched from their hiding place as the young man was dropped unceremoniously onto the dirty stone floor.

None of the children dared breathe until Rob moved, signaling the departure of their captors. Immediately the children gathered around their new cell mate, curious little hands poking and prodding the unconscious man.

"Erza, look!" One of the boys called out to her, "You have the same hair! Do you suppose you are related?"

"I-I'm not sure." replied the meek brown-eyed girl. Carefully she looked him over. Red hair, dark-ringed eyes, a strange scar upon his brow. _Where are his eye brows?_ , she asked herself. It was then she noticed the murky water in the floor of their cell was strangely warm around the body. Lifting her hand from the floor she brought it to her to her line of sight, a slick red substance now coated her hand.

"R-rob!" She called out, "Rob, he's hurt!"

. . .

During the time they were given within their cell, Erza and the others kept a careful eye on the mysterious red-head. It had been awhile, Erza didn't know how long, since the boy had arrived, and while Rob assured them that the boy, who they had begun to call Red, was still living, he had yet to open his eyes.

Days passed, the sun and moon fighting for control of the sky, governing and blurring the concept of time. It was difficlut to say if Red would ever wake, and while his side was healing quickly, Rob never seemed too confident in his survival.

Sometimes she and the other children would make up stories about him, theorizing everything from who he was to how he became so injured. But if there was one thing they all seemed to agree on, it was that he would die here, in the Tower of Heaven.

They all had very similar stories. Towns attacked by teams of dark wizards, who had stolen the majority of them away from their families. Some, such as herself, had no memory of their family, while others clearly remembered whatever fate had befallen their own.

Tracing the unfamiliar symbol scarred upon his brow, she could almost imagine his family, whatever life he had before this... Maybe... He was a brother.

With all that red hair, she could see an imagined life in her mind's eye. As if he could have been her older brother. She didn't think him old enough to be a father, certainly not her own! That he had survived whatever attack had led to her capture, and had vowed to find her once more.

It was a pretty dream, she thought, even though her heart and mind knew it to be false.

Reluctantly, she returned to reality, only to find a pair of cold jade eyes carefully watching her. " _You're awake..._ " It was said with quiet astonishment and disbelief. Brown eyes widened with suprise, "You're awake!" She turned to address another. "Rob! He's awake!"

. . .

 **AN: 11 April, 2017**

 **Love it? Hate it?**

 **This is actually the first story I've posted, and I'm not quite sure where I want it to go from here.**

 **Until next time!**

 **Alewar**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own neither Naruto nor Fairy Tail. Naruto is written by Masashi Kishimoto. Fairy Tail is written by Hiro Mashima.**

Chapter 2

. . .

Waking up was a... disorienting experience, for lack of a better word.

The light, despite it's meager brightness, was much too intense for his recently opened eyes. His stomach complained of hunger, which was a strange experience in itself because he was sure he had died. With his chakra, what little time had replinished for him, he was able to pick out a few small sources in his immediate area.

Like any shinobi worth his training, Gaara stretched his awareness as far he could, which, in his current weakened condition, wasn't anywhere near as far as he would have liked. The light sounds of breathing, the occasional soft scuff of shoes against stone. Little murmurs and whispers that were impossible for him to make out over the ringing in his ears. His inability to focus and the coming migraine was comparable to that of a bad hangover, except for the fact that he hadn't the pleasure of having consumed enough alcohol to account for this damning situation.

Wherever he was, he was not in a hospital nor was he in a field medic's tent, of that he was absolutely certain. It was cold, but not unbearably so, and the draft, that would have never been allowed by a medic, carried with it the acrid stench of salt. The stone flooring was uncomfortable against his back, and his wound seemed to pulse in pain with his heartbeat.

 _Bu-dub, bu-dub, bu-dub, bu-dub, bu-dub, bu-dub, bu-dub, bu-dub..._

He was fighting to stay awake. Even through the pain, his heartbeat, like some morbid lullaby, was lulling him to sleep.

 _No! I have to stay awake! I have people depending on me!_

 _Naruto!_

 _Where's-? I-, I'm missing-!_

 _Where's my armor?_ Panic at having lost his primary weapon cut through the dark haze of weariness. _Nkg-!_ Just barely, he managed to swallow back a strangled noise _. Where's my sand?!_ That sand was his! It was a part of him! Who could have- Who would- Who dared?! It was possible that the sand he would normally carry had been left on the battlefield when he was moved to safer ground. However, he found it increasingly distressing that his sand armor was gone too. It was disgusting. An intense feeling of violation clung to him, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. In a sense, he felt naked.

His internal breakdown, however, was interrupted by a feather-light touch against his forehead, carefully and clumsily tracing the character that he had scarred on his own brow. His heart shuddered in his chest at the unexpected contact and, for just a moment, he didn't dare breathe.

Finally, his jade eyes opened, revealing red. Red, like the hair Uzumaki were known for, like Naruto's mother, Kushina, had. Red like his own hair. The same color as fresh blood.

It seemed that a young girl had been tasked with watching over him. _Her family must be experiencing hard times, for her to be dressed in such rags."Sie sind wach!"_ The girl had finally noticed him. _"Rob! Er ist wach!"_ The only problem was that the language she spoke was unfamiliar to him, which was worrying as every country he knew spoke the same language. It was given that dialects would differ between regions and countries, and of course there were remnants of ancient languages that many a scholar had spent countless hours studying. Even the ninja art of sealing was suspected to have been based out of language! However, the fact remained that everyone in the Elemental Countries spoke the same language.

The bitter taste of bile bubbled up from the back of his throat. A lead brick sank deep into his gut.

 _Where exactly have I ended up?_

. . .

 _Many days have passed since Red, the crimson-haired stranger, first woke. He hasn't spoken once since then, so we know little about the mysterious stranger that now shares our cell._

 _He's silent, even when he walks, and he keeps mostly to himself. He's a hard worker, and even though his injury has yet to heal, he never complains or shows any indication that he's in pain. Occasionally he lets Rob tend to his wound, but there isn't much he can do without medical supplies. We gather around them and watch Rob work while he tells us stories of his adventures as a mage, partially to entertain us, but also, I think, for Red's sake._

 _Red is... different from the rest of us. He never speaks and he's always on guard. He watches everyone's actions so shrewdly with those dark eyes of his, that it's almost disturbingly attentive... How it often feels as if nothing can escape him, like he's a predator hiding beneath that small, injured frame._

 _Sometimes at night, me or one of the others will catch him watching the moon from our small window. During the day, if we're not working, he sits in the far corner, absolutely still with his eyes closed. We thought he might be sleeping then, but Rob said he was doing something called meditation, whatever that is. It looks alot like sleep though, except the dark marks around his eyes never seem to lighten or go away. When he meditates at night, a noise, like scraping, can be heard throughout the walls and floor. It fills up the entire room and makes it difficult for some of us to sleep._

 _If I had to use one word to describe him, it would be scary. He doesn't seem that terrifying on the surface, although the fact the nothing seems to phase him makes most of us uneasy. However, even when tending to his wound, Rob watches him closely from the corner of his eye-_

"Hey! Earthland to Erza!" Being forced from her thoughts, Erza quickly noticed the concerned face invading her own personal space. "Are you even listening to me? Geez!"

Although she couldn't see it, Erza could definitely feel the heat from her now flushed face as it crawled up her neck to her cheeks, even reaching as far up as the tips of her ears. "I-I'm sorry! Would you mind to repeat that? I was just lost in thought..." The sentence was quick, just barely stuttered past her lips before she turned her face to hide the bright red staining her cheeks the color of her hair.

"Huh...?" He followed her gaze to the only other occupant of their cell that shared Erza's scarlet hair. "Geez... Even the new guy's been getting more attention than me!" Although the tone of his voice was teasing, obvious notes of jealousy interlaced his words.

"Don't tell me you're jealous, Eiwen?!" Sawyer called out from across the cell as he made his way over to join their group. "Haven't you seen the way the guards look at him? That's not the kind of attention I'd wanna' deal with. How about you, Erza?"

"No, b-but I-"

" _Feh-!_ " The other boy crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed as Sawyer continued, "I'm more interested in whatever he's doing that keeps the rest of us up at night." Giving in to his excitement, his arms moved to accentuate his words, "I mean, that's got to be some kind of magic, right? That would make him a mage! He could be our way outta' this dump!"

The other boy turned to watch Red, "Tch! What kind of hero gets himself captured?" Anger colored his words as he turned quickly to face the other two, "He's gonna' die in here just like the rest of us!"

A series of sharp, slow claps froze the activity of everyone in the cell. A group a guards had waltzed in without so much as announcing their presence. This deviation from the norm stank of trouble, causing Rob stiffen by Red's side. Noticing Rob's unease, Gaara watched the group closely. "What a wonderful speech! In fact, it looks like we've found our first volunteer!" Whatever they had planned, it couldn't be good.

"Damn you!" Rob, who had been busy tending to Red's wound, leapt forward, trying desperately to grab hold of Eiwen, only to be intercepted by another guard and thrown to the floor. Red, whose injury was just beginning to close, rushed forward to tend to him, his wound severely limiting his movement, causing him obvious strain. "Now, now... Don't be like that! You'll get your turn soon enough old man!" The guard turned to leave with the struggling boy, pausing only to call back over his shoulder, "We promise he'll stay in one piece!" His dark laughter lingering long after he had gone.

. . .

Soon it was night, and night turned to day. The cycle repeating itself three times in what felt like no time at all, but also seemed to stretch for an eternity. The somber mood that had decended onto the group the first night had not left. Instead becoming more sour as time passed without any knowledge of what terrible tragedy had befallen their cellmate. Each wondering who could be taken next. The children had taken to sleeplessness until their bodies gave out, one by one, from exhaustion. The sound of scraping within the walls had returned tenfold and lasted well into the daylight hours. A chilling aura now surrounding the silent stranger known as Red.

On the night of the fourth day, long after the children had passed out, Red continued to meditate as Rob vainly kept watch. The soft clunk of the guard's steps neared and the scraping in the walls stilled. A single guard appeared outside of their cell. Red's eyes sharpened at the guard's presence, taking every move, every twitch and micromannerism into account. Looking for every weakness that could be exploited and turned against whatever group held them prisoner. An air of suspense settled about the room, causing Rob to shift uneasily in his spot.

It was easy for Red to read the man. His eyes, which had been flitting about the occupants of the cell, finally settled on one of the small exhausted figures. Reaching for the lock, his eyes never left his chosen target, except for the single second it took to spell open the door. That second was all Red needed. With a single hand sign, the floor opened, swallowing the guard whole, almost as if he had never been there. It happened so fast, the guard hadn't even the chance to call out or scream. The guard never knew what hit him. A tiny smirk painted itself across Red's face. Only he knew the fate of the man devoured by his sand. Only he knew the man had been ground into dust, his bones only helping to strengthen his sand.

Immediately he was reminded of the cost of using more chakra than he could spare. Dark spots invaded his vision, the world turned on its side. The last thing he saw before passing out was Rob's concerned face.

. . .

By the time Gaara next woke, the guards had already returned and left twice, taking two more children with them. Still there was no word on the three who had been taken, and while the others waited in terrified suspence, poisonous feelings of anger, hatred, lothing- he wasn't quite sure, stirred in his gut. Being a shinobi, death was well-known to him. They may have kept their promise to keep the children in one piece, but that never meant they would be returned to them alive. He was furious. Children were sacred, they were meant to be protected, like the king on a shogi board, because they were the next generation! They were the future!

He was no longer there to fight against the Juubi. Instead, he woke to find himself gravely injured and having been taken prisoner to work as a slave on some _god-damned_ tower in some _god-forsaken_ country that spoke a completely different _fucking_ language, all while having been stripped of his weaponry! He couldn't even fucking protect the children he found himself imprisioned with! He may have been the absolute picture of calm and collected on the outside, but everything about this situation piqued his ire in a way that he hadn't quite encountered since he was a child with the one-tailed Shukaku sealed within him. It seemed there just weren't enough words to describe how he was feeling. A deep dark part of himself desperately longed for Shukaku, longed to be able to give control over to the unstable beast, to just be able to let the demon rampage and destroy this place. The thought made his blood sing in anticipation.

Despite his turbulent feelings on the matter, his forced rest also did him quite a bit of good. Without his conscious mind to impede his body from directing his replenishing chakra to heal his wound, much progress was made. That is, without him conscious to expend what little chakra he could replenish on remaking his sand, his reserves quickly refilled. His wound, on the other hand, had been caused by the Juubi, and due to the corrosive nature of the beast's chakra, it did not want to heal. Since waking, however, he found that the wound had managed to seal itself up enough that, although it would still hinder his movement, strenuous activity would be unlikely to reopen it. It was so frustrating, but all he could do was sit and wait for an opening.

His fist clenched and he brought it back in abuse of the wall behind him. The stone gave way spider-webbing out under the force of wrath. _God damn it!_ He hated being helpless! _I'm a ninja damn it! Why? Heh... Who would have guessed... The Kaze-fucking-kage and I'm trapped here, as helpless as a civilian..._ "Damn it... I'm not supposed to be so useless..."

Day crept into night, and night to day. Gaara had long lost count of the number of days that had passed. Too many, and yet _so_ few. Through listening to other's speech, and also to the story-telling old man, he was beginning to understand the new language that surrounded him. He was not confident enough that he could speak without giving himself away as a foreigner, opting instead to stay silent, but he could understand the gist of the conversations around him.

The old man, Rob, claimed he was once a _Magier_ , but had since retired. From what he could understand with his limited vocabulary, the man claimed to have the ability to use magic, like a wizard or a magician. At first he was hesitant to believe the old man's claims. If it wasn't for the fact that he could feel a power seperate from chakra flowing through the world around him, he would have dismissed his claims in entirety.

The biggest difference, he found, was that this magical energy, _Etherno_ , was not tied to the user's lifeforce like chakra was, but instead existed seperately in the air and in nature. Where chakra was produced naturally by the body and stored within the chakra coils, _Etherno_ was absorbed from the world around the wizard and could be easily replenished in a relatively short space of time. These wizards, although seemingly ignorant to it's existence, had the capability to use chakra but left their coils unused. This had the adverse affect of giving many of them the signature of a civilian, even if in reality they were practiced wizards.

A light tug at the hem of his sleeve freed him from his thoughts. Looking down, his attention was brought to the small, emaciated figure of a child that could be no older than nine. Though average in appearance, the little girl seemed to exude an innocence that should never have survived a place such as this. He could almost feel her anxiety just by looking at her. It was understandable, that by this point, she would seek comfort from any source. Her fear of the unknown outweighing her distrust for a stranger.

Amber colored eyes met his own jade. "They're not coming back are they?" That one question, so quietly uttered, echoed loudly throughout the minds and bodies of the cell's occupants. Time itself seemed to still around them. Every little eye watched the exchange closely while holding a collective breath. "The taken ones, they're not coming back..." Eyes so innocent, that should never have attained such wisdom, were heavy and sullen. He wished he could answer her silent plea, to be able to tell her she was wrong, that everyone would be okay. No matter how much he wanted to preserve what little bit of innocence had survived this all-consuming, nightmarish _hell-hole_ , he was never, or rather, he would never be one to deceitfully give false hope.

With an agonized smile and woeful, guilty eyes, Gaara knelt down beside the girl, knowing her heart was as heavy and weary as his own, and slowly shook his head. The girl, now far more withdrawn, seemed to wilt. She gave a stiff nod of understanding, her darkened eyes downcast. What might have been silent tears trailed her cheek. Shuffling closer to his larger, slightly warmer form, she grabbed tightly to his arm, "I'm so scared, Red..." The wobble in her voice betrayed her, "I'm scared I'm going to be next. **I don't want to be next!** "

Hesitantly, he drew his other arm around her in a weak embrace, meant to be protective and comforting. The world froze around him, and he saw through the eyes of his younger self. Reliving the moment his childhood was stolen away from him, the night he truly lost his innocence.

 _"She died resenting and cursing this world, leaving you as a reminder... So that the world would remember her hatred. You were never loved, Gaara. Never."_

It was true that, after the fight against his father, the wounds created that night were _finally_ healing, however, knowing the truth of that night, knowing that his mother had so dearly loved him, it did little to erase the deep scars that had been left behind. It didn't matter to him how different their situations were, Gaara saw a part of himself in this girl.

"Listen to me, little one," His words were spoken at a slow pace, all his fears on the matter obsolete as his slight accent was barely detectable, "there's nothing anyone can say that will make this right. Just hold on a little bit longer for me and you'll be fine..." His voice was raspy and quiet after such a long time of disuse. So quiet, it was likely only the girl heard.

Fresh tears gathered in her eyes and threatened to spill over, "But I'm so scared, Red." Stubbornly she buried her face against his arm, as if hiding herself within his more formidable presence. With a few quick handsigns, that made Rob incredibly nervous, Gaara held a delicate oleander blossom, which he lightly threaded into her hair and let rest just on top of her ear.

"Just a bit longer... I promise." Shy eyes peaked up at him from the face partially buried in his sleeve. His words seemed to have eased her fears, if only for the moment, as a bright smile lit across her face in happiness. With a genuine smile on her face, she gave hum of appreciation and slightly tightened her hold on him, before releasing him to run back to the other children.

After she had left, Gaara gave a wistful sigh and relaxed back into the wall, managing to catch the mysterious smile on Rob's obviously pleased face. Huffing, he looked away, only to have the old man chuckle at his antics and return to entertaining a group of little ones.

A wave of nausea passed through him and knocked the breath from his lungs. The chakra spent on crafting the sandstone flower taking it's toll. As he steadied himself against the wall, he hoped it would be nothing to worry about. Unfortunately his disregard lead to his own collapse, catching the attention of his cellmates. Rob, having already been designated his caretaker, moved forward to examine him. Red's pale features, now darkly flushed, were indicative of a high fever. The wound that was the source of his infirmity, though now in its last stages of healing, had begun to turn a foreboding inky black.

If he had held any doubt that the young man in his care was a mage, it had been thrown to the wind the moment his injury had taken the damning characteristics of a curse scar. It certainly explained why it had taken so long to heal. At this point, there was little he could do for the boy, so he changed the bandages as best he could, and prayed that the boy would make it through.

. . .

It was nearing daybreak when Gaara finally woke. His muddled mind aware enough to know that his wound had become infected due to a form chakra poisoning. The sweat from his fever left him uncomfortably sticky. "How are you feeling, young man?" The old man sat beside him, checking him over like a mother hen, before helping him sit up. "Here we go, easy does it." The cool stone felt heavenly against his back. He hadn't even realized he'd closed his eyes until he was being shaken awake, "Don't fall asleep just yet, boy. You've lost a lot of fluids from the fever." A flask was dropped into his lap. "Go ahead and drink. It's just water, don't be getting any funny ideas into that thick skull of yours."

Unsure of what Rob meant, Gaara decided to ignore the old man's comment and greatfully accepted the water. It didn't really matter to him either way, he was seventeen, not to mention Kazekage, and had been of legal drinking age for quite some time. He wondered if the laws were different here, but quickly brushed the thought away as inconsequential.

Rob waited patiently for the kid to finish drinking, wanting desperately to ask about the circumstances surrounding the acquisition of such a scar. However, he found that he had already come to a decision about Red. He could tell the kid had a rough past, had done things he wasn't proud of. Yet, it seemed that someone had stepped in and saved him, shown him a better way, so he decided to let it go. "Careful now, don't drink so fast. You'll just puke it up in the end."

But Gaara was done listening.

Quickly he finished the water, turning his attention to take role of his cell-mates instead. A feeling in his gut told him somethig was terribly wrong. He was quick to determine the source of his unease- _Someone's missing!_ Rob felt the turbulent change in atmosphere before he saw the thunderous rage that flashed across his face. _No, damn it! Damn it all!_ It was like an icey hand had reached into his chest, threatening to stop his heart. It was only Rob's hand coming to rest on his sholder that caused him to still, take a deep breath, and count again- _one short_ , and again- _still one short_ , and one last time- _someone's missing_ , only to be forced to accept the horrible truth.

Frosty feelings of guilt and bloodlust crawled up his spine, slowly entrapping his mind. They would regret messing with him and his.

 _I never even asked her name..._

He would make sure of it.

. . .

 **AN: 16 July, 2017, edit 11 May, 2019**

 **Love it? Hate it?**

 **I am in the process of learning German, but I'm not that great. Please let me know if the wording is wrong or if there is a better way to say something.**

 **I would also like to give a special thanks to my beta-reader, StarCire716! Thank you for all the time and work you've put in to this chapter! I look forward to continuing writing with you.**

 **Until next time!**

 **Alewar**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own neither Naruto nor Fairy Tail. Naruto is written by Masashi Kishimoto. Fairy Tail is written by Hiro Mashima.**

Chapter 3

Temari sat behind an ornate desk in an office overlooking a scorching desert village. Organized piles of paper were stacked high, while others existed haphazardly strewn across the desk. It was not the paperwork staring back at her that held her attention, but a photograph. After the final battle had been won, after the Juubi had been sealed and the dead had been accounted for, among those missing, the body of her little brother, the Godaime Kazekage, Sabaku no Gaara, was nowhere to be found.

Being counted among the missing, it gave many hope to someday see him alive. Naruto, the bright source of optimism that he was, was soon to be running on fumes looking for his missing brother-in-all-but-blood. Temari had to wonder if her brother would ever be found, or how long it would take for the sun to lose hope.

A hand, as delicate as it was deadly, reached out, grasping the picture by the frame. The younger faces of herself and her brothers stared back at her through the glass. To photo itself was weathered with age, having been folded and sun bleached. A couple of the corners were dog-eared, and it looked like one of the edges had been touched by the flames of war. Fitting in a way. The war had matured each of them, etching wear into each of their faces, just like the wear to the photograph. No one had been spared from the cruel touch of war.

Being the oldest, she was now the acting Kazekage, at least until such a time as they could bring Gaara home. Kankuro had since been placed on medical leave. She counted herself lucky that he was doing as well as he was after the injury he had suffered. It also helped, she supposed, that they were good friends with one of the greatest medics in the Elemental Nations. Sakura had worked tirelessly to help save her little brother.

Crystal trails marked their way across a young but weary face. "Wherever it is you've found yourself, I hope they have warm words on a cool evening, a full moon on a dark night, and a smooth road to guide you home... Come home soon, little brother." It was little more than a whisper, but to the ghosts of the past, there was scarcely more to offer. "We'll all be here waiting for you..."

. . .

Tensions were running higher than they'd ever been in the cell. It had been too long since anyone had seen hide or hair of the guards. What had started as fear, was slowly giving way to frustration and anger amongst the small populus.

With tempers high, most were waiting for the almost audible snap that would accompany the end of Red's patience. The quiet stranger, for all that he seemed gentle, exuded a dangerous aura that sparked many stories and speculations by the children. The general consensus, it seemed, was that the scarlet-haired man had something to do with it, each story becoming more fantastical than the last. As for the man himself, he spent most of his days in what the children assumed to be a meditation, however that was only partially true.

Gaara, Red, the stranger with hair the color of blood, whatever name he was called by, sat silently, absolutely still, as he stretched his awareness. Any chakra signature he judged to be of ill intent was quickly dealt with before it got too close to the group. His sand swallowing guards and any other personnel, but, with his reserves so low, it was exhausting work. At this point he was sure he was running more on spite than out of any actual sense of justice or protection.

Gaara's newfound ruthless streak also bore a new viciousness within him. Using his sand to set traps, he used his knowledge of chakra to drain what little any who found themselves ensnared could supply, leaving their bodies little more than husks to be consumed by his sand. His injury was the salvation of his captors. Although he was healing, he could do little more than stand, and it would take too much energy and leave him much too vulnerable to use his sand as a lift. His captors would learn the true meaning of fear once he regained his mobility. Until then, he supposed he could settle for this demented game of cat and mouse.

. . .

"Unacceptable!" The guard stationed as head over the Tower of Heaven found himself in counsel with the man who was the mastermind behind the whole operation. He was just as powerful and terrifying as rumors had suggested. "Tell me, what seems to be the hold up? Have you some pathetic excuse as to why you have fallen behind schedule! Is there nothing you are neglecting to report?" A telling silence met the accusation, almost deafening in its thickness and damning in its weight. "Or have you, in your foolishness, forgotten our purpose?" The clear articulation that accented each slowly spoken and carefully chosen word was chilling. "I was under the impression that even someone like you could not botch such a simple job. An error of judgement on my part, it seems. Or perhaps, you are acknowledging you have outlived your usefulness?"

"It's not that simple!" The rotund man protested. Deceitful words dripped from his mouth, with the consistency and slickness of oil. "They've been separated based on their potential magical abilities. Without a wizard it simply won't work." He was grasping at straws now. They both knew it.

"Not that simple? Then speak! What foolishness have you to blame for your tardiness? For your oversight?"

" _But-!_ The prisoner! He-"

"But what? Have you come to explain to me that you are incapable of handling just one prisoner? I am well aware how little an effect magic has had on him. _Try something else!_ Fool, I am not ignorant of the demands required of this process! Nor of your own failings! What excuse have you, that I have not heard before? Need I remind you, the clock is ticking? No more setbacks, or your life will be forfeit!"

"Of course! My men will have everything ready in three weeks."

"You have one. This is your only warning. Our Lord will not suffer you incompetence, but I…" he paused here, as if in contemplation. "I am merciful. Remember this. Be gone, now, from my presence."

"O-of course! Thank you for your generosity!" The man stuttered out in obvious fear, "It shall be done, you won't regret it!"

"And one more thing," the dark figure called out to him as he turned to leave. "Let this serve as a reminder to you, there will not be a next time." The guard didn't even have time to feel pain before he fell, dead, to the floor in a heap of blood and bones. His second in command, who bore witness to the events, would not be making the same mistakes.

"Yes!" And after paying his respects, he left.

. . .

"Wakey, wakey, little birds!" The exhausted occupants of the cell awoke to the slimey, and almost gleeful, voices of their captors. Red, who had also succumbed to sleep, woke with a start. His mind fuzzy, a strange sweet scent lingering in his memories. "Ha, ha, ha! Little birds, trapped inside a cage! Can you hear them cry?"

 _Masks._

"Yeah~!" Another guard slid into their line of sight, "Such pretty little chirps! So urgent! Such fear!" A sharp grin broke across his face, "Delicious~!" Even though he couldn't see his face, the eyes of the guard betrayed his cruel intentions.

 _The guards were wearing masks._

"And I think I know just who is volunteering today!"

Then came the moment everyone had been waiting for, the audible snap of Red's control. " _Īe!_ " The kids watched, fearful and awestruck, as the very floor broke apart, erecting guards on pikes and swallowing others whole. But for each guard that fell, another three took their place, " _Sabaku Kyū!_ "

They had been gassed with a sleeping agent, one his body was already fighting to burn through. He fought hard, but in his drug addled state he never noticed the guard that grabbed him tight, forcing a sweet-scented rag over his nose and mouth. "Now, now, pretty little red bird, you've been quite the thorn in our side." His eyes became heavier. More and more guards entered the enclosed space, working quickly to restrain him. _No, I can't sleep now!_ There were too many hostages at their disposal, and Gaara knew he was quickly running out of chakra. His body went limp, his eyes falling closed.

Even as he slipped back into a drug induced sleep, he knew he would always remember the terrified eyes of the children, watching fearfully as he raged.

And the deafening sound of shackles snapping closed echoed through the darkness that overtook him.

. . .

The weeks after Red had been taken were slow. A cold sense of dread hung heavy in the air. The first few days they were left alone to deal with the aftermath and to make whatever repairs were necessary. Whatever Red's magic had done, had fryed the artificial ley lines and circuitry that helped power their area of the tower.

She shuddered as all of the horrific possibilities that awaited them flashed through her skull, each one more terrifying to her than the last. The graphic scenes became more real and terrifying than ever each time she closed her eyes, leading her into a restless delirium until her body succumbed to the darkness due to her lack of sleep.

Food was usually scarce, but it was now quickly becoming a luxury item. That is, they were left to starve for nearly a week before food became a prospect once more. There was just one catch. Only one would receive a meal. As stomachs ached and complained the bait was certainly appetizing, but fear kept most of their group silent.

She distracted herself by looking out across the blue horizon, wondering what life was like there. Imagining a happy family, a village where they were free and Rob took care of them, a place where the world didn't weigh so much and they smiled and laughed and danced, and they could eat every night until their bellies were full to the point that they might even burst. She thought it was a pretty dream.

"Come now," a guard called in a plastic voice she was sure was meant to sound comforting, "why must you believe that all of us have ulterior motives? It's been four days, you must be starving." A predator searching for easy prey. "Well I guess I'll just have to finish this all by myself." All eyes watched the guard closely as he turned to leave. One step, then two.

Another.

And one more.

He just about over the threshold- " _Wait! Take me with you!_ "

And the trap had been sprung.

Reality hit her like cold water, causing goosebumps to run up her arms and her hair to stand on end, sending a chill through her body that froze her down to the bone (or perhaps it was just the evening chill crawling across the water and into their poorly insulated space, as she had seen more than a few pass in the night from the cold). She feared. She feared for the ones who were taken, she feared for those who stayed, and most of all... she feared for herself. It was dark and all-encompassing. She knew, with a cold certainty, that there would be no escape for them.

When this happened, she instead wondered about death. Would it be quick and painless? Long and drawn out? What awaited them after? Certainly it was better than this... but what if it wasn't? Would she see the others again? Would she be all alone? Rob didn't like to talk much about death, none of the adults did, too worried it might scare them, or maybe they were scared themselves. Either way, that left the answer up to their imaginations. Between the truth and her imagination, she didn't know what scared her more.

When she wasn't worrying about their non-existent future, her mind wandered to Red. They hadn't seen him since his gruesome outburst. She wondered if he was even alive, but told herself not to think on such things. If he was lucky, he had suffered a quick death. He was obviously very powerful, but she didn't think he had been a bad person. He was kind and caring in his own way, if not a little quiet. She wondered what it would be like to be that strong. Strong enough to protect everyone, strong enough not to be afraid. _It must be nice._

"One day," she promised herself, "I'll be strong too." _Strong enough to protect everyone I care about._

. . .

Gaara came-to, dizzy and disoriented, as he was being dragged through the halls to an unfamiliar location. Struggling, he quickly learned, was of no use to him at the moment. Instead, it earned him a knee to the stomach, courtesy of the help. His arms were shackled tight behind his back, the metal cuffs biting roughly into the skin of his arms. Soon the air became more foul, and he tried to pull away, struggling harder to no avail. A stale scent, saturated by decay, rolled through him. It was one he was intimately familiar with, having spent so much time on the battlefield.

His stomach turned, his nose burned. He felt himself go pale, his blood pressure dropping as chills racked his spine. A cold air of knowledge washed over him, bringing goose-bumps in its wake.

" _Well~_ , look who's finally with us!" The guards all wore the same masks. There were no obvious features that separated one from another. "Don't you worry a hair on that head of yours, red bird, we've got something special planned for ya'. As a guest here, it would be rude if we didn't provide ya' the proper hospitality."

They stopped in front of a heavy metal door, locked by an equally heavy bolt. It whined sharply as it swung out, hurting Gaara's sensitive ears.

Forcing himself to relax, he was picked up by the scruff of his neck and shoved through the doorway. Once inside, the cuffs of the shackles were separated and resealed in front of his body, then attached to rigging that hoisted his arms up high above his head, enough that he was forced to stand on the balls of his feet.

"Like we told the boss, this little experiment needs magic to work." A large armed man stalked towards him, stopping a breath away from his face. He had to angle his neck down just to look the guard in the eye, "And you… You've been a right pain in our ass." He held the guard's gaze, refusing to look away or bend to his will, even as the putrid stench of his breath ran across his face, adding to the cacophony of scents making his stomach churn. "You're a mystery. Just washed up here one day, injured. I don't know about you, but that just stinks of suspicious activities. Even in your injured state, you've been in our way. Now, we're here to fill in the gaps. You understand that, right?"

A large, meaty hand caressed his face, gently at first, before pulling him roughly. "We've got gaps in our knowledge about you." A sharp crack echoed through the room and a bruise began to blossom across his cheek, "Who you are," _smack_ , "where you're from," _smack_ , "how much magic you've got." His captor's hand caressed his bruising face once more. "This experiment will take a fair amount. So get comfortable, this will only hurt a lot." A cruel smile painted itself across his face, "And don't you worry about those brats. If you fail, you won't be seeing them again anyway, and then one of the others can take your place."

The large man turned to leave. Halfway to the door he stopped and turned partially to face him, "In fact, I think that mousey, red-haired wretch might make the perfect substitute. She looks like she could be family…" Laughing darkly he turned and left Gaara to the cold silence and scent of decay.

. . .

In a sense, it was worse than when he first woke up bleeding to death in a dirty, overcrowded cell. Time moved differently in this place, or more accurately, the sense of time was so messed up it could have been minutes, hours, days, weeks… Months. He was torturing himself, trapped in his own mind.

 _No windows._ Just a dim light, sometimes flickering but always on. If he concentrated, he could hear the dull _drip, drip, drip_ of water somewhere behind him. The room was bleak and barren, a kind of grimy, rusted gray.

How long had it been? How long had he been in this place? Was it the tower? The room? Did it matter if he differentiated the time between them? Or were they the same?

 _Grains of sand countdown the time. The time has no meaning. It slips through the hourglass, dry like blood. Mud cracking in the desert heat._

 _How can there be time, if time has no meaning?_

There seemed to be no set schedule he received meals on, either to further confuse his sense of time, or to break him from reality. Or maybe it was punishment for his lack of cooperation. Or they only fed him when they remembered.

He just wanted to rest his arms. They were so tired.

 _Tired like Shukaku. Shukaku was tired too. Or maybe he was. Yes… That sounded correct. Perhaps he could just rest his eyes?_

 _Eyes like the moon at night. And feral blood, and bodies of sand._

 _The stench of decay, the iron of blood. Monster that he was._

 _But… The sun had eclipsed the moon? Stars are suns, the moon had friends. Friends with gaping maws, and fanged smiles. Nine-_

 _Nine…_

 _Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine… Brothers and sisters!_

 _Kyūbi, Naruto, Konoha._

 _Hachibi, Killer B, Kumo._

 _Nanabi, Fu, Taki._

 _Rokubi, Utakata, Kiri._

 _Gobi, Han, Iwa._

 _Yonbi, Rōshi, Iwa._

 _Sanbi,Yagura, Kiri._

 _Nibi, Yugito, Kumo._

 _Ichibi, Gaara, Suna._

A voice in the back of his head whispered that he was Gaara, but he paid it no attention.

Where was he again?

The whining of the door brought his attention to the entrance of his room. Where he had expected to see the guard from before, he instead watched as the great form of Shukaku squeezed through the metal frame. Those great yellow eyes that he remembered in his nightmares locked with his own jade.

"Knock-knock, host." _A fanged smile, dripping blood like sand as the moon watched with cold eyes from above._ "It's been awhile since I last saw you. Now, come greet your mother!"

The following shriek was deafening before becoming tinged with hysterical, sobbing laughter.

. . .

Time marched viciously through his skull. Each beat a sick mockery of the pounding ache splitting his head right down to the gray matter. Lights danced above him, haloed in whites and yellows and oranges. Spots of green and red filling the void as he blinked his eyes, trying desperately to clear his vision. Colors smeared together and his ears rang with a thousand, no tens of thousands, of voices. Each one familiar, calling out to him, begging even, for either mercy or death. Time was an illusion. A trap, both physical and mental. It was a prison, as much as a form of torture.

How long had it been?

Were these the same walls? There were the great sandstone towers he grew up with, they were often present in his dreams. There were the walls of his room, bare and lifeless. The walls that separated him from other people were high too.

How long had he been sleeping?

Was he even really awake?

Vaguely he recalled a philosopher that had voiced a similar thought. How did it go again?

 _Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Chou. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again._

"... Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man." His words were rough and breathy as they caught in his throat, coming out as more of an indecipherable rasp than actual language.

 _Between a man and a butterfly there is necessarily a distinction. The transition is called the transformation of material things._

His eyes ached, the echo of the pain reverberating throughout his skull. His thoughts were thick, his throat so dry and scratchy, his skin moist and feverish. Even if he could stand, he held no illusion that his body could support him. His mind flashed back to a time when he was younger. When he had no control, no friends, no one he cared about. Back to when he would cocoon himself away, to emerge as a different being. But he was no butterfly. He wasn't some beautiful, ethereal being. Not even a moth. He emerged as a horrible monstrous creature. A creature made of blood and nightmares, with eyes like perverted stars and teeth that shone like daggers in the moonlight.

The ultimate defense, they called it. More like a cocoon from which their sacrifice emerged as a monster. A demon.

Sacrifice. All this time, and he was unsure he would ever be able to completely escape that title. It had been driven into his head as a child and youth, by strangers and family alike. No matter how much time would pass, he didn't think he would ever be able to forget.

 _How do you define time, when time holds no meaning?_

. . .

 **AN: 11 May, 2019**

 **Hey dudes! It's been a bit since I last posted a chapter, hasn't it? Oh, well. I can't promise that the next chapters will be posted any quicker, but I do plan on continuing the story. Also, I would like to give a big thank you to** ** _ice shredder_** **for the Beta Reading of this chapter.**

 **Catch you on the flip side,**

 **Alewar**


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